


Haruka's way

by howmanyheartaches



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howmanyheartaches/pseuds/howmanyheartaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michiru's stressed out and Haruka tries to distract her from work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haruka's way

Haruka had a mission. As usual she was taking it very, very serious. In fact she had spent several nights just thinking about it, faking to be asleep. Normally, Michiru would realize it, would offer her comfort. But this was about Michiru. Her mermaid had been at unease for a week now. She didn’t struggle with nightmares about the end of the world though.

It was worse than that. She struggled with something she wasn’t familiar with.

Rejection. Critic. Someone thought she wasn’t flawless. Someone simply didn’t care for her genius and her inspiration. And when your wife cries out a male name in the middle of the night you have to get to work.

 

Michiru was speaking to Dave - said blind idiot - on the phone, when Haruka entered the kitchen, racing magazine in hand. It was Haruka’s duty to take care of her wife. In her own way.

Haruka had always been fascinated by the way Michiru could talk to her manager, her sponsors, other business partners. She wrapped them around her little finger in less than a second. Her fans loved her, regardless of which rumor was making its round. Everyone admired everything she did. She always got what she wanted in the end. Michiru might not take her fans seriously, but she did take her music very seriously.

But Dave was not a fan. He was Michiru’s new A&R guy due to job rotation and he had no interest in Michiru’s talent. Instead, dollar signs were probably blinking in his eyes while messing with Michiru’s mind. This particular stupid human-being simply resisted Michiru.

The violinist held herself straight, biting the inside of her cheeks. Haruka could tell how tired she was. And angry. And sad. So the blonde dropped her magazine.

“Oops”, she said, to be sure of Michiru’s attention.

She then proceeded to kneel down, picking the magazine up and getting up in a way that would have made a hip-hop-dancer proud.

Michiru’s swallowing was very audible. Haruka noticed that with great satisfaction. But her lover turned around to focus on the phone call as Haruka sat down at the kitchen table. That was probably because her hair looked extra fierce today. Haruka knew what a distraction she could be.

The reason Michiru still decided to take that call in the kitchen and not in her studio was the constant reminder of why she was doing this. Food! Four hungry people! Two very hungry ones and two with exquisite taste!

Of course they could always live off Michiru’s parents’ money. But the reason Michiru persuaded to be a professional in her field was her urge to be independent from them. She was so furious with her parents almost constantly, so she didn’t want the feeling to owe them something.

No matter how used Michiru was to being praised - she could paint almost everything and it would be pried from her cold, dead hands - she was aware that she wasn’t perfect. But she made sure to note her mistakes first and to get them out of the way before someone else did.

But this request – all of Dave’s requests – were off in so many ways and she was forced to work with him and she slowly got insane.

“But you wrote the string arrangements for that rock record …” He said.

“You’ve probably have noticed that it was a perfect match, haven’t you? Those musicians make honest music! It’s real and so good. They play their instruments beautifully …”

Haruka started to hum one of these songs, which wasn’t helping - only more distracting. Her low, husky voice always made something in Michiru’s insides quiver in pleasure.

“Well, those dup-steppers are nice people”, Dave truly didn’t want to understand Michiru’s point of view. His rude tone snapped Michiru out of her longing to bring her partner closer.

“Oh, so you really think it’s my style to play my violin over their tunes?”, Michiru tried again. It was hard for her to tame her very strong inner self and keep on being polite. It was even harder having her partner in the room. Haruka was flipping the pages of her magazine very loudly and Michiru wasn’t sure how much longer she could maintain her composure.

She turned around to face her wife: “Haruka, could you please be so kind and give me some privacy for a moment?”

“What? I’m only reading my magazine”, Haruka spoke as innocently as possible. But then she lifted her hand to lick her index finger a bit too passionately, using it to turn the next page. Haruka was well aware that Michiru was very turned on because of her flushed face, so she allowed herself a smile. Getting Michiru to that point already told her she did a good job.

However, Michiru wasn’t ready to give in – not to her and not to Dave: “I really need to concentrate …”

“Michi, I’m not the one you’re mad at”, Haruka fluttered her lashes. She couldn’t help but think that even goddesses lost their heads from time to time.

Michiru noticed her heart skipping a bit. Of course, Haruka was right, and she didn’t want to start an argument with her love. So Michiru shed her eyes and went back to talking to Dave: “Have you considered that from an artistic point of view …”

But she got cut off again by Dave rambling on about figures and target groups and how “hot right now” those dup-step-dudes were.

Someone else was hot as well: “It’s so warm in here, isn’t it?”

Haruka let out a gasp and started to unbutton her shirt, her gaze fixed to Michiru’s. She presented her wisely chosen bra – a black, transparent piece of fabric that left little to one’s imagination.

“It’s better now”, she murmured, sprawling seductively in her chair.

Michiru couldn’t remember where Setsuna and Hotaru were - she had been too occupied with Dave and his ill-bred e-mails and his crazy ideas -, but she was definitely alone with her significant other. Which was good, because Haruka started to undo her pants.

“Besides, Missy, we got a contract”, Michiru could hear Dave’s offensive tone, those threatening words … but she simply didn’t care.

How long had it been since she had had the opportunity to dig into this perfectly sculpted body?

Too long! She had driven herself crazy for a week, hyperventilating about her image, what she represented as an artist, her message, her audience … but wasn’t LOVE everything?

Haruka’s eyes were still set on her, so piercing … as she began to touch herself. It wasn’t like Michiru hadn’t seen this before in her relationship, but still it was a shock each time how beautiful Haruka was when she started rub her fingers between her legs. Her other hand was on her breast, her nipples getting harder and harder.

Her moan covered up whatever lunatic rant left Dave’s mouth.

Michiru felt a certain pulling between her legs. She twitched, unsure what to do, but Haruka’s glance never left her face and she seemed to work some kind of magic on herself.

Haruka got louder, faster, and Michiru wanted to join in.

But, oh, her career? Her being a fighter for what she believed in? If she was being impolite she could ruin everything … and she was used to be on top of her game … but … whatever. She knew too well that, if she lost her record deal tomorrow, she’d just paint a jellyfish in outer space tomorrow and her family wouldn’t starve for a year. And in the eyes of her partner, she’d never be a failure.

Haruka’s opinion was the only opinion that mattered.

“You know what, fuck it. We’re going to do it my way, not your way”, with that Michiru ended the call and dropped her phone. She wiped the magazine from the table and slid onto Haruka’s lap: “Come here!”

“But don’t you care about your media evaluation at all?” Haruka said teasingly. The blonde didn’t stop to rock herself against her fingers – Michiru had to kiss her hard in order to do so. The artist yanked the racer’s head to intensify the kiss. Haruka took Michiru’s cardigan off and opened her dress while deepening the kiss.

“Fuck that”, she repeated, “And do me on the kitchen table.”

“As you please”, Haruka kissed Michiru’s jaw line roughly.

Mission accomplished.


End file.
